University  of  California  •  Berkeley 

THE  PETER  AND  ROSELL  HARVEY 
MEMORIAL  FUND 


REV.   JOSEPH     R.    DAVIS 


Let  thy  loins  be  straitly  girded, 
Life  be  pure,  and  heart  be  right, 

At  the  coming  of  the  Bridegroom 
That  thy  lamp  may  glitter  bright. 

— OLD  LATIN  HYMN. 


SOME     RECOLLECTIONS    OF    A 
BLAMELESS    LIFE 


EDITED    BY 

I.    B.    PRICE 

PROFESSOR   OF   MATHEMATICS    IN    UNION    COLLEGE 


"  Yes;  Thou  art  still  the  Life,  Thou  art  the  Way 
The  holiest  know;  Light,  Life,  the  Way  of  heaven! 
And  they  who  dearest  hope  and  deepest  pray 
Toil  by  the  Light,  Life,  Way,  which  Thou  hast  given 


UNION  COLLEGE,  SCHENECTADY,  N.  Y. 


PRESS   OF 

BRANDOW  &  BARTON 

ALBANY,  N.  Y. 


PREFACE. 


W/HEN  I  yielded  to  the  earnest  solicitations  of  some  friends 
to  edit  this  brief  Memoir  of  one  for  whom  I  had  the 
greatest  respect  and  love,  I  hoped  that  my  health  would  per 
mit  me  to  give  it  the  care  and  attention  it  so  richly  deserves ; 
but  ,1  have  not  been  granted  the  needed  strength.  Friends 
have  done  much  of  the  work,  and  if  we  have  together  pre 
sented  in  such  clear  light  the  many  rare  and  noble  qualities  of 
our  dead  friend  that  young  men  may  see  and  seek  to  imitate 
them,  our  object  will  be  fully  realized. 

UNION  COLLEGE, 

July  i sth,  1884. 


INTRODUCTION. 

the  autumn  of  1872  Mr.  Joseph  R.  Davis,  a  youth 
thoroughly  vigorous  in  physique,  and  rendered  attractive 
by  his  strong,  though  not  handsome  face,  entered  Union  Col 
lege.  His  examinations  for  admission,  passed  in  the  previous 
June,  had  impressed  the  examiners  with  the  thorough  char 
acter  of  his  preparation.  His  sun-browned  face  marked  him 
as  fresh  from  the  farm,  and  suggested  to  his  future  instructors 
that  he  was,  perhaps,  another  of  that  multitude  who  leave  the 
green  fields  to  join  their  more  active  fellow  men  in  solving  life 
problems  of  a  higher  nature  than  those  which  relate  to  seed 
time  and  harvest.  The  most  valuable  prizes  given  by  the 
College  at  that  time  were  those  known  as  the  "  Nott  Prize 
Scholarships,"  and  having  a  total  money  value  of  four  hun 
dred  and  twenty  dollars.  The  student  in  order  to  secure  one 
of  them  must  possess  fine  ability  and  almost  a  faultless  prepa 
ration  in  the  Classics  and  the  Mathematics  usually  required  in 
preparation  for  college.  At  an  examination  held  early  in  Jan 
uary,  1873,  Mr.  Davis  was  awarded  one  of  those  prizes. 

Indeed,  from  the  hour  he  entered  the  College,  Mr.  Davis 
was  marked  as  one  about  whom  many  hopes  centered.  .No 
one  knew  then  that  it  was  the  decree  of  the  Master,  in  Whose 
will  he  delighted,  that  when  he  had  fully  prepared  himself  for 


vi  Introduction. 

the  work  of  this  life  he  should  be  called  to  the  life  above. 
His  boyhood  was  full  of  obedience  to  parents ;  his  youth  and 
young  manhood  were  spent  in  acquiring  a  brilliant  preparation 
for  after  success  in  his  college  life.  After  graduation  he 
taught  one  year  in  Franklin,  Delaware  county,  and  then  he 
was  called  to  the  tutorship  of  Latin  in  his  alma  mater.  At 
the  end  of  the  third  year  as  tutor  he  entered  Union  Theolog 
ical  Seminary,  and  after  graduation,  under  the  advice  of  his 
physician,  he  spent  a  few  months  at  Riverside,  in  Southern 
California,  and  then  in  great  feebleness  he  journeyed  wearily 
and  alone  back  to  the  quiet  rest  and  love  of  his  home  among 
the  hills  of  Western  Pennsylvania.  There  scarcely  seems 
enough  in  this  brief  outline  to  distinguish  him  from  many 
others ;  yet  he  was  such  a  rare  scholar ;  there  was  such  sweet 
purity  about  his  acts  and  thoughts ;  such  noble  consecration 
of  every  faculty  to  each  undertaking,  that  from  his  many 
friends  there  comes  a  resistless  plea  for  some  clear  outline  of 
his  scholarship  and  Christian  character — some  brief  narration 
of  the  marked  influence  he  silently  exerted  for  Christ's  cause, 
and  of  the  work  he  did  that  His  kingdom  might  soon  come 
among  men. 

The  materials  for  this  Memoir  have  been  gathered  from 
those  who  knew  Mr.  Davis  intimately,  and  they  were  kind 
enough  to  place  them  in  the  form  in  which  I  have  used  them. 

Professor  Whitehorne,  of  the  Greek  Department  in  Union 
College,  and  one  full  of  love  for  the  memory  of  his  brilliant 
student,  has  written  of  his  college  work ;  Rev.  Dr.  T.  G.  Dar 
ling,  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church  of  this  city,  gives  a  full 


Introdtiflion.        ,  vii 

and  helpful  account  of  the  work  Mr.  Davis  did  in  that  church 
during  his  college  course  and  while  he  was  still  in  the 
seminary ;  Rev.  Dr.  George  Alexander,  formerly  a  valued 
professor  in  Union  College,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hastings,  of  Union 
Theological  Seminary,  and  Rev.  Mr.  Morris,  of  Neath,  have 
all  given  valuable  help.  Many  others  have  made  contribu 
tions  which  appear  in  the  course  of  the  Memoir.  The  father 
of  Mr.  Davis  furnished  the  account  of  the  formation  of  the 
Welsh  colony  at  Neath  and  the  short  family  history  which  is 
given. 


A     MEMOIR. 


CHAPTER    I. 


FAMILY   HISTORY. 

September,  1831,  the  "Elizabeth  Clark,"  a  brig,  com 
manded  by  Capt.  Richardson,  sailed  from  Swansea,  on  the 
coast  of  Wales,  with  seventy  passengers.  They  were  bound 
for  America,  and  most  of  them  were  Welsh.  The  voyage 
lasted  eight  weeks  and  ended  at  New  York.  At  that  time,  of 
course,  railroads  only  existed  in  the  minds  of  enthusiasts,  and 
there  was  needed  then  the  brain  and  muscle  of  half  a  century 
to  yet  fully  develop  them.  It  was  a  time  when  the  emigrant 
found  but  little  to  cheer  or  encourage  him  as  he  pushed  on 
to  the  end  of  his  wearisome  journey. 

After  a  brief  rest  in  New  York,  they  took  passage  on  the 
Hudson,  and  in  a  little  while  they  left  the  River  and  travelled 
by  canal  till  their  route  was  frozen.  A  few  families  took 
sleighs  and  pushed  on  to  Pike  township,  Bradford  county, 
Pennsylvania.  The  name  of  the  township  has  since  been 
changed  to  Neath.  The  country  was  almost  entirely  unbroken 
forest — desolate  and  uninviting. 

With  those  who  journeyed  on  in  sleighs  was  a  young  min- 


io  A  Memoir. 

ister,  Daniel  Jones,  a  man  of  culture  and  fine  education. 
Among  the  families  in  the  new  settlement  was  that  of  William 
Evans,  the  father  of  the  late  Professor  Evans  of  Cornell 
University,  and  Samuel  Davis,  the  grandfather  of  the  subject 
of  this  Memoir.  Almost  immediately  after  their  arrival  they 
organized  a  church,  in  which  Mr.  Jones  preached  to  them  in 
their  native  tongue.  The  building  which  they  erected  as  a 
church  served  the  double  purpose  of  a  place  for  worship  and 
a  school  house.  The  seats  employed  were  made  from  "  slabs  " 
from  the  saw-mill.  It  is  probably  safe  to  say  that  the  ques 
tion  of  free  seats  versus  hired  pews  never  agitated  the  minds 
of  the  worshipers.  Mr.  William  S.  Davis,  in  the  letter  in 
which  he  gave  me  a  brief  history  of  his  family,  and  of  the 
Neath  colony  of  Welsh,  made  this  comment :  "  Uninviting 
and  even  uncomfortable  as  was  our  house  of  worship  at  that 
time,  would  to  God  that  there  were  the  same  zeal  and  enthu 
siasm  in  the  people  of  to-day  for  the  worship  of  the  living 
God  as  there  was  at  that  time  when  they  would  go  for  miles 
through  the  woods,  amid  mud  and  snow,  on  foot,  on  any 
evening  of  the  week  as  well  as  on  the  Sabbath  to  wait  on  the 
Lord."  As  we  have  already  stated,  Joseph  R.  Davis  was  the 
grandson  of  Mr.  Samuel  Davis.  The  family  of  the  latter 
consisted  of  his  wife  and  five  children,  three  of  whom  'were 
boys.  With  the  coming  of  the  spring  of  1832,  Mr.  Davis 
purchased  a  farm  of  ninety-five  acres.  It  was  in  reality 
ninety-five  acres  of  wilderness,  awaiting  the  tireless  effort  of 
the  new  owner  to  become  a  home,  growing  as  the  years  went 
on,  rich  in  all  the  comforts  and  culture  which  belong  to  a 


A  Memoir.  n 

Christian  home.  The  youngest  son  of  Samuel  Davis,  William 
S.  Davis,  married  Elizabeth  Philips,  who  was  also  among  the 
little  band  which  reached  Neath  in  the  early  winter  of  1831. 
The  subject  of  the  Memoir,  Joseph  R.  Davis,  was  their  first 
born,  the  date  of  his  birth  being  August  nth,  1853.  All  of 
the  people  about  the  little  child  were  Welsh,  and  as  a 
consequence  he  first  learned  to  talk  in  the  Welsh  language. 
He  was  so  thorough  a  Welshman  that  when  he  commenced 
going  to  school  his  teacher  was  much  troubled  to  understand 
the  child,  or  in  turn  to  make  himself  understood,  but  at  the 
end  of  three  months  he  thoroughly  understood  the  English, 
but  to  the  end  of  his  life  the  language  of  his  childhood  days, 
with  all  of  its  seeming  crookedness,  was  full  of  interest  to  him. 
This  was  the  more  remarkable,  as  most  of  his  life  was  spent 
away  from  home  with  people  who  knew  nothing  of  the  Welsh 
language.  He  always  wrote  to  his  parents  and  pastor  in 
Welsh.  His  pastor,  the  Rev.  Samuel  A.  Williams,  always 
spoke  in  high  terms  of  the  good  Welsh  letters  he  received 
from  the  boy  at  college. 

From  childhood  he  evinced  a  desire  to  unite  with  the 
church,  and  at  the  age  of  thirteen  he  was  received  as  a 
member,  and  from  that  time  he  took  an  active  part  in  church 
work,  and  by  his  noble  example  of  purity  in  thought  and 
speech  did  great  good.  His  father  writes  :  "  His  first  work 
was  in  the  prayer  meetings  of  the  church,  and  next  he  assisted 
me  at  the  family  altar,  and  was,  as  we  believe,  not  only  ready 
and  willing  at  all  times  and  places  to^  witness  for  the  Master, 
but  it  was  a  delight  and  pleasure  for  him  to  do  so." 


CHAPTER    II. 


MR.  BUCK'S  ESTIMATE  OF  HIS  FRIEND  AND  COLLEGE 
ROOM-MATE. 

TOWANDA,  PA.,  j 

July  14,  1884.  } 
My  Dear  Professor  Price: 

Y  acquaintance  and  association  with  Joseph  R.  Davis 
began  when  we  were  school  boys  in  the  Le  Raysville 
Academy,  at  Le  Raysville,  Pa.,  pursuing  substantially  the 
same  studies,  and  with  them  substantially  the  same  object,  a 
preparation  for  college.  Having  been  tutored  by  a  Union 
graduate,  the  Rev.  H.  F.  Cochrane,  of  the  Class  of  '58,  who 
was  always  faithful  to  his  alma  mater,  our  studies  and  tastes 
were  naturally  shaped  and  directed  in  large  measure  by  his 
preference.  We  were  examined  for  entrance  and  matricu 
lated  on  the  same  day,  and  roomed  together  during  our  entire 
course.  We  graduated  friends  as  we  had  entered,  and  though 
less  closely  associated  after  graduation,  yet  our  friendly 
relations  suffered  no  abridgment  to  the  last. 

It  is  seldom  there  are  seen  combined  in  the  same  individual 
with  natural  capabilities  the  virtues  of  industry,  temperance, 
worthy  ambition,  perseverance,  truthfulness  and  Christian 
zeal  in  so  eminent  a  degree  as  exhibited  in  the  character  and 

brief  life  of  J.  R.  Davis.     With  a  naturally  strong   physical 

(12) 


A  Memoir.  13 

constitution,  though  it  early  succumbed  to  unremitting  strain 
and  overwork,  he  was  industrious  beyond  his  fellows,  whether 
in  college  or  in  other  fields  of  effort.  He  had  no  companion 
ship  with  idlers,  and  only  sparingly  engaged  in  social 
recreation.  Often  he  spent  with  his  books  and  in  the  class 
room,  day  after  day  and  week  after  week,  from  fourteen  to 
sixteen  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four.  He  was  not  satisfied 
with  anything  less  than  a  perfect  recitation,  and  this  he 
seldom  failed  to  accomplish  by  steady  application  and  regular 
work.  With  great  aversion  to  excess  of  every  kind  (unless  it 
were  excess  of  work),  he  was  always  temperate  in  thought, 
speech  and  habits  of  life.  His  thoughts  were  pure  and 
charitable ;  his  speech  always  chaste  and  moderate ;  his 
habits  of  life  correct  and  exemplary.  With  natural  endow 
ment  and  fondness  for  learning,  he  was  ambitious  for 
knowledge,  even  to  the  extent  of  desiring  to  excel  others. 
Scholastic  attainment  always  elicited  his  admiration.  With  no 
particular  striking  mental  adaptation  in  one  direction,  he  was 
proficient  in  many.  His  was  not  the  intellect  sometimes  seen 
that  bridges  and  spans  intermediate  mathematical  processes, 
as  it  were,  without  mental  effort,  and  writes  out  the  result 
with  equal  accuracy  and  rapidity,  but  perchance  in  Livy  or 
Herodotus  is  dull  and  slow.  Neither  was  his  mind  of  the 
order  that  grasps  and  remembers  the  etymology  and  trans 
lation  of  a  Greek  or  Latin  verb,  but  utterly  fails  in  a 
geometrical  demonstration  or  algebraic  formula.  But  with 
well-balanced,  sufficient  capabilities  for  any  branch  of  learning  ? 
his  knowledge  and  mastery  of  it  were  gained  by  painstaking 


14  A  Memoir. 

study  and  prolonged  research.  He  spurned  to  "  ride " 
through  any  lesson.  There  was  no  place  on  his  library  shelf, 
or  in  his  trunk,  "for  a  horse."  The  light  equestrian  student 
might  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  flowers  in  a  line  from  Horace, 
but  only  the  plodding  foot  traveller  could  really  enjoy  their 
fragrance  or  perceive  the  very  subtlety  of  their  meaning. 
Whatever  subject  was  assigned  to  the  class  in  his  course,  he 
mastered  it  of  his  own  powers,  and  was  invariably  successful 
in  class  recitation.  Though  not  acquiring  with  the  utmost 
ease  he  had  a  receptive  mind,  and  his  memory  was  strong 
and  apt  to  be  correct. 

Without  ostentatious  self-confidence,  he  relied  upon  his 
own  resources,  and  was  persistent  and  persevering  in  accom 
plishing  whatever  he  undertook.  Slow  to  give  up  a  difficult 
problem  or  abandon  a  doubtful  passage,  he  was  seldom 
obliged  to,  and  professors  and  classmates  alike  came  to  count 
upon  Davis'  having  the  correct  solution  or  proper  translation. 

Of  Welsh  parentage  and  surroundings,  he  spoke  the 
language  of  his  father's  people  with  natural  ease,  and  during 
all  the  course  of  his  other  studies,  while  those  of  his  age  and 
generation  in  the  vicinity  of  his  home  were  to  a  considerable 
degree  losing  the  language,  he  not  only  kept  up  his  acquaint 
ance  with  it,  but  to  a  fair  degree  familiarized  himself  with  its 
etymology  and  grammatical  composition,  maintaining  during 
the  four  years  of  his  college  course  a  correspondence  with  his 
father  in  this  tongue. 

Not  of  a  jovial  turn,  his  life  was  for  the  most  part  a  serious 
one.  Solitude  often  seemed  congenial  to  his  spirits.  At 


A  Memoir.  15 

times  he  seemed  oppressed  with  a  lack  of  cheerfulness,  and  I 
remember  on  one  occasion  his  comparing  a  certain  phase  of 
his  own  life  with  the  sadness  marking  a  character  of  which  he 
had  then  been  lately  reading.  He  made  few  confidants,  antf 
violated  the  confidence  of  none.  Cherishing  ambitions  and 
desires  of  a  high  character,  only  now  and  then  glimpses  were 
revealed  of  his  aims. 

His  moral  qualities  ranked  not  inferior  to  his  mental.  He 
had  not  the  frankness  of  nature  possessed  by  some  —  that 
communicative  disposition  which  reveals  everything  and 
keeps  back  nothing  —  but  he  never  warped  the  truth,  and  his 
word,  when  spoken,  -could  be  relied  upon.  He  never 
exhibited  all  there  was  of  him  at  the  first  meeting  with  a 
stranger,  but  left  the  impression  of  resources  in  reserve,  and 
closer  association  always  increased  the  esteem  in  which  he 
was  held. 

He  was  exact  but  strictly  honest  in  business  affairs, 
charitable  in  his  judgment  of  the  motives  and  actions  of 
others,  modest  and  unassuming  in  manners,  plain  and 
economical  in  habits,  and  trusted  by  all  whom  he  knew.  His 
life  was  pervaded  by  an  earnest,  steadfast  Christian  purpose, 
and  had  it  been  spared  to  riper  years,  his  continuing  useful 
ness  was  assured,  and  his  ultimate  eminence  in  the  honored 
profession  he  had  chosen  was  highly  probable.  "  Requiescat 
in  pace  "  is  the  cordial  wish  of  his  classmate  and  chum. 

Yours  truly,  SAMUEL  W.  BUCK. 


CHAPTER    III. 


PROFESSOR  WHITEHORNE  AND  MR.  DA  VIS. 
AM  asked  to  say  something  of  my  intercourse  with  the 
late  Joseph  R.  Davis,  which  was  one  of  as  warm  regard 
and  close  intimacy  as  could  exist  between  persons  holding 
the  relation  first  of  teacher  and  pupil  and  again  of  principal 
and  assistant  in  carrying  on  the  Latin  department  in  college. 
Davis  entered  college  in  1872,  and  immediately  gave  token 
of  becoming  that  most  satisfactory  of  all  persons  to  an 
instructor  —  a  student  who  left  no  difficulty  unsolved.  I 
remember  how,  after  a  few  weeks,  when  the  freshmen  had 
shaken  themselves  together,  and  their  individual  capacities 
had  been  made  manifest  to  all,  whenever  a  difficulty  of  trans 
lation  or  construction  made  it  necessary  to  pause  for  inquiry 
and  investigation,  the  eyes  of  every  member  of  the  class 
would  turn  for  a  solution  of  the  puzzle  to  the  quiet,  steady- 
looking  youth  who  sat  apparently  unmoved  but  always  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  eye  and  the  suspicion  of  a  smile,  and  the  knot 
must  have  been  very  complicated  which  he  failed  to  disen 
tangle. 

With  all  this  quiet  sobriety  of.  demeanor,  he  exhibited  on 
occasion  an  unexpected  faculty  of  humor.     I  will  relate  one 

little  circumstance  in  which  he  was  the  chief  actor,  which  will 

(16) 


A  Memoir.  17 

illustrate  my  last  assertion  and  will  show  in  what  way  he 
affected  others  beside  myself.  At  the  end  of  the  first  term, 
when  the  class  was  assembled  for  examination,  we  were 
somewhat  astonished  to  see  a  Dominie  enter  and  announce  that 
Dr.  Potter  had  appointed  him  to  examine  the  class.  "All  right ; 
sit  down.  Here  is  the  book."  He  bade  me  call  up  some 
one.  I  thought  it  best  to  give  him  at  once  a  dose  that  would 
satisfy  him,  so  I  called  up  Davis.  We  had  the  last  three 
books  of  the  Iliad  to  get  through,  and  I  put  him  to  read 
the  lament  of  Andromache  at  the  tidings  of  Hector's  death  — 
a  very  pathetic  and  somewhat  difficult  passage.  "  Go  on," 
said  I,  and  he  began  to  read  the  passage  in  English  in  very 
good  style.  "  Hold  on,"  said  the  Dominie,  "  why  does  he 
not  read  the  Greek?"  "  That  is  not  my  way,"  I  said. 
"  However,  Davis,  read  fifteen  lines  of  Greek  right  off,  and 
then  return  to  your  translation."  He  did  so ;  and  having 
accomplished  both  satisfactorily,  the  model  examiner  began 
to  ask  him  some  baby  questions  in  grammar,  whereat  I 
became  impatient,  and  stopping  him,  said  :  "  Davis,  take  that 
sentence  and  pull  it  to  pieces  and  then  put  it  together  again." 
All  which  was  done  in  such  a  manner  that  the  Dominie  rose, 
made  him  a  bow,  and  troubled  us  no  more  then,  or  at  any 
future  examination.  When  our  work  was  ended  and  the  class 
dismissed  Davis  remained,  and  approaching  me,  said  very 
quietly,  with  a  cunning  look :  "  Don't  you  think  we  settled 
the  Dominie,  Professor?  "  I  have  just  been  looking  over  the 
record  of  his  marks  in  my  books,  and  I  look  almost  with 
incredulity  at  the  amazing  string  of  lo's,  an  unbroken 


1 8  A  Memoir. 

sequence  of  perfect  marks  in  two  studies,  Latin  and  Greek, 
for  a  space  of  three  full  years.  It  seems  wonderful  that  amid 
all  the  changes  and  chances  of  a  student's  career,  with 
apparently  no  allowance  for  occasional  weakness  or  wavering, 
there  should  have  been  through  all  that  time  no  variableness 
or  shadow  of  turning  in  the  earnest  striving  after  perfect 
accomplishment  of  the  end  in  view.  We  can  account  for  this 
if  we  bear  in  mind  that  he  ever  proved  himself  to  be  an 
essentially  religious  and  conscientious  person  who  had  set 
before  himself  an  exalted  standard  of  duty  to  which  he 
advanced  always  with  an  eye  single  and  a  step  unswerving. 
Moreover,  I  imagine  that  he  really  had  less  difficulty  in 
learning  certain  subjects  than  others  have.  His  mental 
conformation  was  one  calculated  to  enable  him  to  cope  with 
and  overcome  the  perplexities  of  unknown  tongues.  I  never 
had  a  pupil  who  showed  equal  analytical  power  in  searching 
out  and  mastering  the  crudities  of  a  complicated  sentence. 
He  may  have  obtained  this  facility  by  right  of  birth,  for  he 
belonged  to  the  Welsh  family  of  twisted  tongues,  to  whom,  as 
a  compensation,  nature  has  vouchsafed  a  remarkable  power 
for  the  acquisition  of  language.  Be  the  cause  what  it  will,  I 
repeat  that  he  had  great  power  in  the  mastering  of  Latin  and 
Greek,  and  in  imparting  his  knowledge  to  others. 

Thus  passed  his  years  of  early  manhood,  until  he  finished 
his  college  course  and  received  all  the  honors  we  could 
bestow.  Those  of  us  who  well  knew  him  and  his  aims  looked 
to  the  time  when  he  would  be  welcomed  into  the  educational 
force  of  the  College  as  an  undoubted  certainty,  for  where 


A  Memoir.  19 

could  we  look  to  find  a  man  more  fitted  to  help  us  by  devo 
tion  to  duty,  by  natural  ability,  by  education  and  training  to 
that  particular  end?  He  therefore  became  my  assistant  as 
tutor  of  Latin,  with  the  expectation  that  in  due  course  he 
would  be  promoted  to  the  position  of  Professor  of  Latin. 
We  looked  forward  with  confident  hope  that  at  length  Union 
College  would  have  a  professor  in  that  department  fully  com 
petent  to  its  duties,  regarded  with  respect  and  affection  by  all, 
both  professors  and  undergraduates,  as  it  has  never  been  eith 
er  before  or  since  in  my  time.  How  this  expectation  was 

nullified  I  will  leave  others  to  say. 

H.  WHITEHORNE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

AS  A  STUDENT  OF  MATHEMATICS. 
AA  R  DAVIS'  love  for  the  pure  mathematics,  and  the  many 
useful  and  exquisitely  beautiful  applications  which  have 
been  made  of  them  to  the  physical  sciences,  gave  sure  prom 
ise  that  had  he  devoted  his  intellect  to  either  pure  or  applied 
mathematics  he  would  have  achieved  success  in  the  chosen 
field  of  labor.  His  acquirements  were  such  that  during  his 
college  course  he  took  the  first  rank  as  a  student  of  those 
subjects.  The  work  was  in  no  sense  mere  lesson-getting,  but 
it  was  in  a  large  degree  calculated  to  develop  the  power  of 
original  thought  on  the  part  of  the  student,  and  thus  lead  to 
true  mental  growth.  The  mere  student  of  work  done  by 
others  —  the  hard  laborer  on  Calculus,  Higher  Mechanics, 
Quaternions,  etc. —  could  not,  during  the  past  ten  years,  have 
taken  high  rank  in  Union  College  as  a  mathematician.  To 
win  that  honor  a  man  must  possess  real,  native  mathematical 
talent,  and  we  believe  that  Mr.  Davis  was  thus  gifted.  It  is 
doubtful  whether  the  marked  ability  shown  by  him  in  other 
branches  is  ever  possessed  by  a  student  without  the  presence 
of  the  faculty  to  acquire  high  rank  as  a  mathematician.  Many 
students  are  placed  under  feeble-minded  instructors  for  their 
early  training,  the  faculty  for  mathematics  is  neglected,  and 

(20) 


A  Memoir.  21 

it  is  then  assumed  that  it  does  not  exist.  However,  a  close 
study  of  carefully  arranged  lists  of  great  minds  will,  I  believe, 
establish  the  proposition.  At  the  celebration  of  the  semi 
centennial  anniversary  of  the  connection  of  Prof.  Isaac  W. 
Jackson  with  the  faculty  of  Union  College,  Dr.  Taylor  Lewis 
spoke  thus  of  the  subject  to  which  his  friend,  Dr.  Jackson,  had 
devoted  his  life  :  "  Pure  mathematics,  so  called  from  their 
crystal  claritude,  as  compared  with  the  mixed  and  physical 
branches.  He  has  had  a  clear  mind  constantly  gazing  upon 
the  science  of  certainty  ;  a  still  higher  title  by  which  it  may  be 
called,  in  contrast  with  the  dimness  and  doubt  and  shadow 
that  rest  upon  almost  all  the  provinces  of  human  thought. 
Nor  is  it  the  less  worth  in  respect  to  the  dignity  and  elevation 
of  its  truth."  Later,  in  his  address  on  the  same  occasion,  Dr. 
Lewis  adds  :  "  The  pure  geometry,  as  Plato  would  tell  us,  is 
inherent  in  the  Divine  mind,  not  made  by  God,  as  nature,  but 
a  part  of  His  very  being.  It  came  forth  at  the  command, 
•  '  Let  there  be  light ! '  and  stamped  the  dark  outward  world 
with  its  inward  forms."  Dr.  Lewis  devoted  most  of  his  life  to 
the  study  of  languages,  but  he  never  forgot  the  pleasure  and 
strength  which  mathematical  study  had  afforded  him. 

Mr.  Davis  looked  forward  eagerly,  as  he  said  to  me,  to  the 
time  when  all  the  technical  work  of  the  Seminary  should  be 
completed  and  he  should  be  settled  in  some  church  work. 
"  Then,  Professor,  I  can  review  my  old  mathematical  studies 
and  push  on  into  new  departments  of  the  subject."  He  enjoy 
ed,  to  the  fullest  measure,  such  work,  and  he  saw  and  owned 
that  he  owed  his  finest  discipline  to  mathematical  studies. 


CHAPTER  V. 


MR.  DAVIS  AS  TUTOR  OF  LATIN  IN  UNION  COLLEGE. 
/'THE  influence  of  scholarly  students  upon  other  students 
^  and  upon  the  general  character  of  the  work  done  in  a 
college  cannot  be  over  estimated.  Mr.  Davis  entered  the 
College  at  a  time  when  some  young  professors  and  instructors 
were  struggling  hard  against  great  odds  to  advance  the  course 
of  study  to  such  a  degree  that  the  bitterest  enemy  of  the  insti 
tution  could  no  longer  term  it  "  Botany  Bay."  A  strong 
party  in  the  Faculty,  and  a  majority  of  the  Trustees,  seemed  to 
desire  to  give  merely  the  value  of  a  certificate  of  residence 
to  the  college  diploma.  The  right  prevailed,  and  by  the  aid 
of  such  students  as  Mr.  Davis  in  giving  a  scholarly  character 
to  the  work  in  the  class  rooms,  and  by  their  help  afterwards 
as  tutors,  the  scholarship  of  the  institution  was  much 
advanced.  Those  who  received  diplomas  between  the  years 
1873-1883  may  well  feel  proud  of  them.  They  represent  a 
course  in  well-chosen  branches  of  study,  leading,  in  many 
cases,  to  rare  scholarship,  and  in  all  to  culture  and  refine 
ment. 

Mr.  Davis  was  a  member  of  the  Faculty  for  three  years. 
His  work  was  in  the  Latin  Department.  At  that  time  Pro 
fessor  Whitehorne,  an  Oxford  scholar  possessing  rare  gifts  as 

(22) 


A  Memoir.  23 

a  teacher  and  disciplinarian,  was  directing  the  work  in  the 
Department.  The  Professor  was  Mr.  Davis'  former  instructor 
and  warm  friend,  and  with  the  generous  aid  of  the  former 
Mr.  Davis  soon  found  that  his  Department  was  gaining  a 
reputation  for  doing  thorough  work.  When  Mr.  Davis  left 
the  College  he  was  rapidly  taking  a  high  position  as  an 
able  teacher.  He  loved  teaching,  but  the  advice  of  his 
dearest  friends  and  his  own  longings  to  be  doing  the  Master's 
work,  were  rapidly  leading  him  towards  the  ministry.  From 
the  day  he  entered  Union  Theological  Seminary  till  he 
graduated,  he  felt  that  he  had  been  guided  by  his  Master's 
hand  in  choosing  his  life  work ;  and  his  teachers  soon  recog 
nized  his  noble  character  and  noted  his  remarkable  scholar 
ship.  While  teaching  in  the  College  the  students  admired  his 
unpretentious  yet  scholarly  methods,  and  the  Faculty  were 
proud  to  name  him  as  one  of  their  body.  It  is  a  law  in 
Union  College  that  the  tutors  must  be  elected  yearly.  At  the 
end  of  his  third  year  Mr.  Davis  was  not  re-elected.  The 
circumstances  attending  the  election  of  his  successor  were 
such  that  all  men  who  loved  Mr.  Davis,  and  the  simple 
honesty  which  m'arked  every  word  .and  act  of  his  short  life, 
hasten  to  forget  them.  The  Faculty  had  lost  a  member  of 
whose  scholarship  scholars  speak  with  enthusiasm  —  one  who 
favored  high  scholarship,  and  a  relationship  between  college 
officers  and  pupils  which  should  be  marked  by  truthfulness 
and  exalted  moral  purpose. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


A  LETTER  FROM  REV.  DR.   T.  G.  DARLING. 
/J|LL  through  his  college  course  and  during  his  tutorship 

Mr.  Davis  was  a  zealous  worker  in  the  First  Presbyterian 
Church,  and  its  pastor,  Rev.  Dr.  T.  G.  Darling  has  shown  his 
warm  appreciation  of  his  work  and  character  in  the  following 
letter : 

FIRST  PRESBYTERIAN  CHURCH, 
SCHENECTADY,  N.  Y.,  April  30,  1884. 

My  Dear  Professor : —  My  inability  to  put  on  paper  the 
feeling  which  I  have  as  the  result  of  my  intercourse  with  our 
friend  Mr.  Davis,  has  caused  my  long  delay  in  responding  to 
your  request  for  a  sketch  of  his  life  in  the  church.  Of  the 
personal  life,  its  sincerity  and  simplicity,  you  had  the  best  pos 
sible  opportunity  to  judge  on  the  hill.  The  character  which 
can  for  four  years  stand  the  test  of  college  life,  students  and 
Faculty  being  judge,  jury  and  witness,  can  stand  any  test  —  if 
there  be  a  more  searching  one,  it  may,  perhaps,  be  that  of  the 
instructor  —  where  incompetency  or  untrustworthiness  only 
need  time  to  be  detected  and  branded. 

I  shall  speak,  therefore,  only  of  Mr.  Davis'  relation  to  our 
church  and  Christian  work,  and  you  can  make  as  little  or  as 
much  use  of  it  as  you  please. 

(24) 


A  Memoir.  25 

Mr.  Davis  united  with  this  church  October  25,  1877, 
coming  to  us  from  the  First  Congregational  Church  at 
Franklin,  N.  Y.  I  do  not  remember  our  first  personal 
contact.  I  began  to  feel  his  help  in  the  church  before  I 
really  knew  who  he  was,  as  you  can  readily  understand  might 
be  with  one  so  faithful  and  ^et  so  unobtrusive,  if  not  self- 
depreciating. 

But  from  the  time  that  his  work  pointed  him  out  as  one  who 
did  not  belong  to  the  great  majority  needing  to  be  lifted,  but 
to  those  who  recognize  their  stewardship  down  to  the  day  he 
left  for  the  Seminary,  I  felt  increasingly  his  force  for  good  in 
the  church,  and  leaned  upon  him  with  no  fear  of  a  fall. 

His  estimate  of  his  own  ability  to  render  service  was  a  very 
modest  one,  yet  it  never  hindered  him  from  assuming  cheer 
fully,  even  if  timidly,  any  duty  which  Providence  seemed  to 
lay  at  his  door.  If  we  were  willing  to  assume  the  responsi 
bility  for  possible  failure,  he  was  willing  to  assume  the  respon 
sibility  of  doing  the  hard  work,  and  it  was  not  long  before  the 
duty  became  with  him  a  prized  privilege,  for  he  loved  the 
Lord's  work  and  pulled  always  the  laboring  oar,  not  coveting 
an  ornamental  place  in  the  stern. 

In  this  way,  in  a  relatively  short  time,  he  was  identified 
with  the  best  life  and  spiritual  force  of  the  church.  All  the 
workers  knew  and  prized  his  cooperation,  for  he  was  always 
where  he  had  promised  to  be,  feeling  that  the  lukewarm- 
ness  or  failure  of  others  was  an  additional  call  to  him  to  put 
in  his  best  strength. 

You  know  how  accurate  and  painstaking  and  laborious  he 


26  A  Memoir. 

was  in  all  his  college  duties,  in  his  eagerness  to  get  as  much 
and  as  varied  knowledge  as  was  possible,  and  to  get  it 
thoroughly,  seeming  always  to  be  overtaxing  his  physical 
energies.  It  was,  therefore,  always  a  marvel  to  see  how 
regularly  he  was  in  his  place  at  the  appointed  meetings,  and 
how  scrupulously  he  attended  to  the  details  of  committee 
work,  especially  in  connection  with  the  Young  People's  Asso 
ciation  in  which  he  held  an  honored  position  and  influence, 
never  suffering  his  religious  work  to  be  pushed  aside  by 
college  or  social  engagements.  He  was  a  model  of  fidelity 
in  every  trust,  and  was  soon,  with  possibly  one  exception, 
more  closely  and  helpfully  identified  with  all  the  interests  of 
the  church  than  any  of  the  students  who  have  so  much 
helped  the  church  during  the  past  ten  years.  He  was  per 
sonally  a  great  comfort  to  me  in  Christian  work ;  for  once  he 
had  become  responsible  for  anything  the  whole  burden  of 
concern  dropped  from  me,  in  the  assured  confidence  that  he 
would  do  his  work  with  intelligent  thoroughness  and  conse 
cration.  In  all  the  time  that  he  was  with  us  —  whether  as 
student  or  instructor  in  college  —  I  never  knew  him  to  seek 
to  be  excused  from  any  work  because  it  was  difficult,  or 
disagreeable,  or  discouraging.  If  he  changed  his  work  it  was 
at  our  request  to  undertake  something  of  more  consequence, 
or  which  it  was  harder  to  find  help  than  in  the  work  which  he 
was  already  prosecuting,  and  I  do  not  recall  his  laying  aside 
anything  which  he  had  not  improved  and  advanced.  He  had 
a  good  Christian  courage,  for  while  he  would  state  the  reasons 
which,  in  his  judgment,  disqualified  him  from  an  undertaking — 


A  Memoir.  27 

and  this  with  no  mock  modesty  but  from  a  serious  distrust  of 
his  fitness  —  once  it  had  been  considered  wise  for  him  to  put 
his  hand  to  the  plow  he  measured  his  work  and  put  into  it  all 
his  energies,  apparently  feeling  that  the  less  he  was  adapted 
to  it  the  more  force  he  would  need  to  make  good  his  lack  of 
qualification.  I  need  hardly  say  that  he  enjoyed  the  fullest 
confidence  and  esteem,  and  that  he  earned  it. 

He  was  very  helpful  in  our  prayer  meetings,  not  often 
speaking,  but  with  fervor  and  simplicity  and  great  helpfulness 
taking  frequent  part  in  prayer.  He  was  an  intelligent  and 
attractive  and  spiritually-minded  teacher  in  the  Sabbath 
School.  One  of  his  scholars,  who  happens  to  be  with  me  as  I 
write,  says  that  the  whole  effort  of  his  teaching  was  to  bring 
the  class  to  Christ,  and  that  he  seemed  "  alive  with  the  Spirit." 
He  followed  up  their  conversion  with  efforts  to  make  them 
feel  their  responsibility  to  engage  in  extra  work,  and  it  was 
through  his  efforts  that  the  friend  just  referred  to  began  public 
Christian  work. 

Knowing  something  of  the  time  and  strain  involved  in  all 
this,  you  can  judge  that  nothing  but  a  most  sincere  devotion 
to  Christ  could  ever  have  induced  a  man  so  busy  and  zealous 
in  his  studies  to  devote  so  much  of  his  time  and  heart  to 
religious  work.  If  at  the  same  time  he  was  active  in  the 
religious  life  of  the  college  —  as  I  understand  that  his  piety 
was  as  marked  then  as  his  scholarship  —  his  endowments  of 
grace  and  capacity  for  the  maximum  of  work  with  the 
minimum  of  obtrusiveness  were  extraordinary ;  for  as  I  said  it 
was  the  work  always  which  pointed  out  the  man,  and  not  the 


28  A  Memoir. 

man  who  was  pointing  out  the  work.  He  did  "with  his 
might "  whatever  his  moral  judgment  directed  him  to  do,  and 
yet  there  was  no  indiscreet  or  fuming  zeal  about  him,  but 
intelligent  conviction  and  progressive  devotion  to  extra  work 
as  the  main  purpose  of  life.  With  all  his  love  for  study  his 
life  showed  that  back  of  the  application,  and  deeper  than  the 
scholarly  delight  which  he  took  in  application,  was  the  hope 
that  all  his  acquisitions  would  prove  a  means  to  the  end  of 
building  up  Christ's  kingdom. 

It  was  not  merely  a  personal  and  social  grief  to  us  when  he 
left  but  a  spiritual  loss  to  the  church,  though  we  are  grateful 
for  the  influence  still  living  in  us.  When  I  visited  his 
Seminary  in  New  York  the  professors  spoke  in  the  highest 
terms  of  his  character  and  scholarship,  one  of  them  saying  : 
"  Send  us  more  men  like  Davis ;  he  is  the  kind  of  man  we 
need  for  the  ministry." 

In  the  summer  vacation  of  '81  he  took  charge  of  the  Park 
Place  Chapel  for  us.  He  had  previously  found  time  in  his 
busy  life  to  make  his  influence  felt  there  also,  and  was  warmly 
welcomed  back.  The  same  characteristics  which  attended 
his  former  life  and  work  among  us  were  again  exhibited.  He 
was  thorough  rather  than  brilliant.  He  lacked  the  personal 
magnetism  which  attracts  men  suddenly,  and  unreasonably  and 
independently  of  character.  He  planted  deep,  and  was  con 
tent  to  trust  God  for  future  results,  more  anxious  about  the 
root  than  the  sudden  sprouting.  He  was  not  the  man  to  lose 
out  of  his  hand  what  had  already  been  acquired  while 
grasping  ambitiously  after  great  things.  Solid  work,  even 


A  Memoir.  29 

if  slow,  was  his  aim,  while  he  strove  for  permanence  rather 
than  popular  impression. 

After  completing  his  Seminary  course  amid  increasing 
infirmities,  he  came  up  for  his  examinations  in  Presbytery 
prior  to  ordination  for  missionary  work  in  Southern  California. 
He  had,  as  was  his  habit,  measured  his  work  carefully,  knew 
just  what  was  expected  of  him,  and  without  any  seeming 
consciousness  that  he  was  distinguishing  himself  passed, 
wherever  he  was  tested,  a  most  complete  and  satisfactory 
examination,  showing  himself,  as  we  all  expected,  entirely  at 
home  in  all  the  subjects  in  which  the  examination  was  not 
merely  formal. 

As  I  look  back  on  his  life  among  us  and  think  of  his 
mingled  strength  and  simplicity,  his  loyalty  to  truth,  his 
sincere  devotion,  his  unaffected  unconsciousness  of  his  own 
merit,  his  work  so  unobtrusive  that  we  measured  it  by  its 
helpfulness  rather  than  the  conspicuousness  of  the  agent,  the 
uncomplaining  cheerfulness  with  which,  in  the  midst  of  the 
pressure  of  his  college  duties,  he  let  us  put  on  him  the  hard 
work  to  which  some  other  could  not  be  kept  steady,  not 
relinquishing  anything  till  it  was  accomplished.  I  feel  how 
strange  was  the  human  or  u  wrong  "  side  of  the  Providence 
who,  at  the  threshold  of  its  earthly  ministry,  took  away  the 
life  so  hard  to  replace  to  fill  the  grave  so  much  more  easily 
filled.  It  is  hard  to  think  of  all  the  stored  knowledge  and 
accumulated  energy  and  consecration  of  his  life  which  he  could 
not  leave  to  another  being  lost  to  a  world  which  so  much 
needed  it.  It  must  be  that  all  the  sympathy  which  quickened 


30  A  Memoir. 

his  labors,  and  the  discipline  which  ripened  his  spirit,  and  the 
acquired  gifts  which  made  his  labor  so  efficient  and  filled  us 
all  with  such  hope  for  his  future  have  been  transferred  of  God 
to  a  broader  field,  and  the  talents  which  faithfulness  doubled 
made  the  working  capital  for  more  extended  usefulness  in  the 
larger  things  over  which  the  Master  has  made  him  ruler. 

Yours  faithfully, 

T.  G.  DARLING. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

A  BRIEF  OUTLINE  OF  MR.  DAVIS  EXPERIENCE  IN 
SOUTHERN  CALIFORNIA.— IT  IS  COMPILED  MAINL  Y 
FROM  HIS  LETTERS. 

KANSAS  CITY,  June  23,  1883. 

\  V /E  were  hindered  by  the  rain,  so  that  we  did  not  reach 
here  until  about  daybreak  to-day,  whereas  we  should 
have  reached  here  last  evening ;  and  it  is  raining  hard  here 
this  morning.  It  is  quite  unlikely  that  I  shall  see  my  brother 
to-day  because  of  a  washout  in  the  road  leading  thither.  The 
agent  tells  me  now  that  he  thinks  I  can  go,  but  will  be  able 
to  tell  me  more  definitely  when  the  time  comes  for  the  train 
to  go,  8.50.  I  hope  I  shall  get  there,  but  am  not  very  confi 
dent. 

I  passed  the  time  as  pleasantly  as  I  could  at  Eldon  and 
also  at  Trenton,  another  station  where  we  stopped  two  or 
three  hours 'yesterday  afternoon.  I  was  feeling  pretty  well 
aside  from  the  aggravation  of  being  delayed.  The  weather 
was  pleasant  where  we  had  to  wait,  although  we  had  two  or 
three  showers  when  we  were  travelling.  I  expected  when  I 
left  home  to  reach  Chicago  Wednesday  night,  this  place  the 
night  following,  and  have  all  day  Friday  to  go  to  my  brother's, 
but  you  see  how  the  rains  just  spoiled  all  my  plans.  I  would 
not  mind  it  very  much  if  I  could  get  to  Carson  to-day. 


32  A  Memoir. 

We  nearly  ate  the  people  at  Eldon  out  of  everything  they 
had,  for  the  place  is  not  very  large,  and  there  was  a  large 
number  of  us ;  there  was  a  dining  car  on  the  train  out  from 
Chicago,  and  that  was  left  for  us  to  feed  the  hungry  and 
impatient  crowd.  Indeed  you  may  believe  it  was  just  charm 
ing,  staying  there  where  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  and 
nothing  much  to  do  but  wait  for  the  time  to  go  by  !  The 
river  was  so  high  the  cars  had  to  stop,  I  should  think,  three  or 
four  miles  away,  and  we  were  brought  over  in  a  miserable  old 
river  steamboat.  We  had  a  dreary  thunder  shower  as  we 
were  about  to  leave  the  cars  which  kept  us  in  them  until  the 
rain  was  over.  *  *  *  I  am  still  feeling  well,  but  at 
present  a  little  tired.  I  hope  to  get  refreshed  and  ready  for 
a  new  start  at  Carson. 

Just  before  leaving  his  brother's  he  writes,  June  30,  con 
cerning  the  work  in  which  he  is  about  to  engage  : 

I  am  anxious  to  get  there  (Riverside)  for  I  fear  the  people 
will  be  impatient  at  my  delay.  (They  were  expecting  him 
early  in  June.)  I  am  more  anxious  still  about  the  work  that 
is  to  follow,  and  with  what  satisfaction  and  success  I  shall  per 
form  it !  I  have  done  nothing  scarcely  in  the  way  of  prepara 
tion  for  it,  except  to  refrain  almost  entirely  from  all  mental 
labor,  and  I  fear  it  will  take  me  some  time  to  get  into  the 
harness.  However,  I  shall  try  to  avoid  borrowing  trouble  and 
endeavor  to  trust  in  the  Lord ;  if  it  be  His  will  that  I  labor 
successfully  at  Riverside,  He  will  be  with  me,  and  if  it  is  not, 
then  the  sooner  I  find  it  out  the  better.  I  almost  tremble 


A  Memoir.  33 

when  I  think  of  the  responsibility,  and  yet  I  believe  it  has 
not  been  my  own  seeking. 

RIVERSIDE,  July  9,  1883. 

You  do  not  know  how  glad  I  am  to  get  to  my  journey's 
end.  I  was  getting  weary  and  anxious  to  get  among  civilized 
people.  I  am  afraid  it  would  try  me  more  than  I  thought  to 
labor  on  the  frontier  among  all  classes  of  people,  particularly 
among  those  who  have  no  reverence  for  the  Bible  or  for  God's 
house. 

Thus  far  I  am  more  than  delighted  with  the  place ;  it  seems 
queer  to  me,  however,  that  there  is  no  fear  of  rain  or  of 
cloudy  weather  until  November  or  December.  The  sky  is 
bright  and  clear.  This  valley  is  fresh  and  green,  in  marked 
contrast  with  the  sandy  plain  and  naked  mountains  about  here. 

I  think  I  am  improving  in  health. 

RIVERSIDE,  Aug.  3,  1883. 

Long  before  this  reaches  you  the  work  which  is  now  staring 
me  in  the  face  will  be  ended  in  some  way  or  other.  Next 
Sabbath  we  have  communion,  and  to-morrow  afternoon  at 
three  o'clock  a  preparatory  service  was  to  be  held  ;  that  would 
keep  me  pretty  busy,  though  I  could  see  my  way  clear  all 
right.  This  morning,  however,  I  was  waited  upon  by  a  young 
man  who  informed  me  of  the  death  of  his  cousin,  who  had 
been  sick  for  over  three  weeks.  He  died  last  night ;  service 
is  to  be  at  the  house  to-morrow  at  3  P.  M.,  and  I  am  asked  to 
conduct  the  service.  So  there  is  additional  labor.  The  pre 
paratory  lecture  will  have  to  be  appointed  for  Saturday  evening, 


34  A  Memoir. 

I  presume,  though  I  am  not  sure  what  arrangement  has  been 
made.     I  am  a  little  afraid  of  my  strength. 

Saturday,  5.20  P.  M. —  I  have  just  returned  from  the 
funeral  service  and  the  elders  very  kindly  have  omitted  the 
preparatory  service,  so  that  I  am  at  liberty  until  to-morrow. 
I  got  through  the  exercises  this  afternoon  full  as  well  as  I 
expected.  There  was  a  male  quartette  to  do  the  singing,  and 
I  read  portions  of  Scripture,  offered  prayer  and  made  a  few 
remarks  from  Ps.  102,  24. 

Next  week  Mr.  C.  and  I  are  thinking  of  going  to  the  coast 
for  a  week  or  so.  The  session  are  willing  to  give  me  a  rest 
of  a  couple  of  weeks,  and  we  are  thinking  of  trying  the  effect 
of  sea  air  upon  me.  The  place  to  which  we  are  going  is 
called  Willmore  City. 

WILLMORE  CITY,  Aug.  9,  1883. 

As  you  see,  I  am  at  the  sea  coast,  and  the  Pacific  is  grand 
as  the  great  waves  come  rolling  into  the  shore  hour  after 
hour.  There  are  perhaps  half  a  dozen  buildings  here  which 
are  called  houses.  They  are  boarded  up  and  down  with  red 
wood,  the  cracks  battened  and  the  inside  papered,  but  not 
plastered.  There  is  one  building  sided  and  painted  white, 
owned  by  parties  from  Riverside,  which  looks  quite  like  a 
house,  and  another  in  process  of  erection  which  will  be  very 
comfortable  when  completed.  There  are  fifteen  or  twenty 
tents  along  the  edge  of  the  bluff  and  a  temporary  bath  house. 
This  is  Willmore  City — very  preposessing,  do  you  not  think  so  ? 


A  Memoir.  35 

I  am  writing  in  our  room  in  what  is  called  by  way  of  com 
pliment  and  by  a  great  extension  of  the  term,  a  hotel,  the  only 
one  here.  I  can  see  the  ocean  from  my  window  and  watch 
the  waves  as  they  break  upon  the  shore. 

We  started  Tuesday  at  6  A.  M.  and  reached  here  at  6  P.  M., 
or  a  little  later.  The  ride  was  as  pleasant  as  any  ride  of  fifty 
miles  across  the  country  can  be  here.  The  road  in  some 
places  was  so  sandy  that  we  could  not  drive  off  of  a  walk, 
and  the  horses  sank  in  almost  up  to  their  ankles.  We  stopped 
at  noon  by  the  roadside  in  the  shade  of  some  cottonwood 
trees  and  fed  our  horses  and  ate  our  dinner.  The  chief  draw 
back  was  the  want  of  good  water  to  drink.  We  were  near 
two  houses  but  they  had  no  well  and  used  water  drawn  from 
the  irrigating  ditch.  We  set  out  again  in  an  hour  and  rode 
through  two  miles  or  more  of  white  river  sand  and  then  came 
to  a  town  called  Anaheim. 

Then  we  rode  across  a  plain  with  no  habitation  for  six  or 
eight  miles  certainly,  until  we  came  to  a  large  house  on  a  rise 
of  ground.  We  rode  nearly  six  miles  further  over  a  very 
interesting  road,  and  finally  reached  Willmore  City.  How 
my  bright  anticipations  vanished  when  I  saw  the  place  !  I 
expected  to  find  a  small  village  with  streets  regularly  laid  out 
and  a  hotel  of  some  pretentions,  but  I  had  no  right  to  any 
such  anticipation,  for  though  the  place  is  advertised  quite  ex 
tensively,  and  maps  are  published  giving  the  names  of  the 
streets  and  various  other  things  which  are  misleading,  the 
place  is  only  a  year  or  less  in  age — it  is  mushroom  growth. 
Supplies  of  provisions  are  brought  from  Wilmington,  three  or 


36  A  Memoir. 

four  miles  away,  to  which  one  can  go  in  part  by  street  car,  in 
part  by  steam  car. 

Thursday,  j  P.  M. — I  took  a  walk  after  dinner,  but  the 
wind  is  a  great  deal  cooler  to-day  than  yesterday.  I  felt  it 
quite  cool  when  I  went  down  to  the  beach ;  in  fact  it  was  too 
cool  to  be  comfortable.  *  *  *  So  for  as  comfort  and  en 
joyment  are  concerned,  I  had  much  rather  be  in  R. ;  but  if  it 
will  be  good  for  me  here,  why  this  is  the  place  for  me,  I 
fancy. 

RIVERSIDE,  Aug.  19,  1883. 

(After  his  return  from  the  coast.) 

The  next  day  after  our  return  I  thought  myself  a  great  deal 
better  than  when  I  went  away ;  but  the  day  following  1  did 
not  feel  nearly  so  well,  and  all  the  week  I  have  felt  rather 
miserable.  I  do  not  know  what  it  means  ;  my  appetite  is  not 
so  good,  and  if  that  fails  I  do  not  know  what  will  happen.  I 
felt  pretty  well  at  the  coast  until  the  day  we  left — then  I  was 
not  so  vigorous.  On  the  whole,  I  did  not  like  Willmore  City 
any  too  well ;  it  was  pretty  cool  for  me  at  times,  and  I  was 
not  so  comfortable  for  that  reason.  I  spent  a  good  part  of 
the  time  out  of  doors,  but  it  was  fearfully  monotonous 
for  me. 

I  went  to  see  the  doctor  this  morning ;  he  does  not  seem 
to  think  that  I  am  any  worse ;  advised  me  to  try  the  moun 
tain  air,  and  I  am  thinking  seriously  of  going  on  Monday  to 
Crafton,  28  miles  from  here,  to  stay  until  next  Saturday,  at 
least.  I  do  not  gain  in  strength,  but  Crafton  may  help  me. 


A  Memoir.  37 

CRAFTON,  Aug.  22,  1883. 

I  came  to  this  place  last  Monday ;  one  of  our  elders 
brought  me  up  and  returned  the  next  day — yesterday.  He 
came  purposely  to  bring  me  a  distance  of  twenty  miles  or 
more  off  toward  the  mountains ;  if  the  people  are  not  kind  to 
me,  then  I  am  mistaken. 

My  going  to  the  coast,  on  the  whole,  I  guess,  was  no  gain 
to  me — whatever  it  might  have  proved  had  I  not  gone  into 
the  ocean.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  am  no  better,  and  my 
going  into  the  water  was  probably  a  mistake.  My  appetite  is 
not  so  good  as  it  was  before  I  began  wandering  around. 

I  like  the  surroundings  here  very  much ;  there  is  grass 
about  the  house  and  plenty  of  shade,  a  walk  by  the  side  of 
the  brook,  and  seats  here  and  there,  so  that  in  these  respects 
it  is  very  pleasant.  Thursday  morning,  I  do  not  know 
whether  I  am  any  better  here  than  at  R.  or  not ;  have  not 
been  here  long  enough  yet,  and  then,  too,  I  was  very  tired 
when  I  arrived  here  on  Monday.  We  had  been  nearly  eight 
hours  on  the  road,  and  though  while  we  were  riding  I  was  not 
conscious  of  being  weary ;  after  we  reached  here  I  felt  more 
completely  worn  out  than  I  have  yet  felt  on  this  coast.  I  am 
ashamed  of  myself  to  think  that  I  can  endure  so  little. 

Yesterday  I  spent  most  of  the  time  in  reading  the  "  Inde 
pendent,"  "  Memorials  oi  a  Quiet  Life,"  and  some,  though  not 
as  much  as  I  ought,  in  the  Bible.  To-day  the  Bible  and 
Wordsworth  have  occupied  me  thus  far. 

It  does  not  require  much  exertion  to  use  me  up,  and  I  feel 
somehow  that  I  must  do  something  if  I  am  to  receive  the 


38  A  Memoir. 

greatest  possible  benefit.  The  sun  is  so  hot  that  I  have  an 
aversion  to  being  out  in  it,  and  so  I  loaf,  and  read,  and  walk  a 
little;  this  morning  I  took  a  horseback  ride  of  a  couple  of 
miles  or  so.  I  do  not  know  whether  I  am  going  to  get  very 
strong  in  one  week  more ;  I  believe  I  am  feeling  better.  I 
trust  that  by-and-by  imprgvement  will  be  more  rapid. 

CRAFTON,  Aug.  29,  1883. 

It  is  warm  here,  even  if  it  is  a  little  elevated,  shaded  and 
furnished  with  water  in  a  running  stream.  It  is  sometimes 
quite  uncomfortable  because  of  the  sultryness  combined  with 
the  heat. 

Yesterday  and  to-day  have  witnessed  a  little  horseback  rid 
ing  ;  I  rode  six  miles  to-day,  and  did  it  without  much  fatigue. 
I  still  have  a  cough  and  some  pain  in  my  side,  but  I  think  I 
am  improving ;  people  tell  me  that  I  look  better,  and  so  I 
suppose  I  really  am  better,  but  my  strength  is  not  much  and 
my  breath  would  soon  be  goone  if  I  undertook  any  severe 
exertion. 

I  am  going  to  stay  here  one  week  longer  at  any  rate,  and 
indeed  in  my  present  condition  I  do  not  feel  that  I  can  carry 
the  work  required  of  me  during  a  year  unless  help  comes 
from  somewhere. 

Friday  morning. — I  believe  I  can  still  ^ive  an  encouraging 
report  of  myself.  I  am  sure  I  am  better  than  when  I  came  to 
California,  and  think  I  have  improved  ever  since  coming  here. 
But  one  has  to  be  so  careful  against  taking  cold,  because  of  the 
great  difference  in  temperature  between  night  and  day.  At 


A  Memoir.  39 

night  sometimes  the  mercury  stands  at  54°,  and  during 
the  day  it  may  be  from  95°  to  100°  or  more — a  very  great 
change  in  twenty-four  hours. 

This  is  quite  an  out  of  the  way  place,  although  we  get  mail 
every  day.  There  are  only  four  or  five  houses  beside  this  one 
in  this  immediate  vicinity,  and  that  completes  Crafton ;  then 
the  road  passes  through  a  dry  plain  with  no  houses  for  a  dis 
tance  ;  further  on  (3  miles  from  here)  is  Lugonia,  where  we 
get  our  mail.  The  same  building  is  a  store,  postoffice  and 
dwelling  house  ;  there  are  four  or  five  houses  beside,  and  that 
is  all  of  Lugonia.  The  country  around  is  barren,  principally ; 
on  some,  peaches,  oranges,  apples  and  grapes  are  raised,  the 
soil  being  irrigated  by  water  from  the  stream  which  runs  past 
here. 

CRAFTON,  Sept.  4,  1883. 

I  am  feeling  pretty  well  to-day,  and  in  the  morning  of  every 
day  can  get  along  very  well,  but  the  middle  of  the  day  is  so 
hot.  I  have  finished  the  first  volume  of  "  Memorials  of  a 
Quiet  Life,"  and  have  enjoyed  it  so  much.  What  beautiful 
dispositions  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Augustus  Hare  had — so  thankful  to 
God  for  His  gifts,  and  so  dilligent  in  serving  Him  by  working 
in  various  ways  for  men. 

We  have  not  had  a  good  wetting  rain  since  I  have  been 
here,  and  are  not  likely  to  have  for  some  time  to  come. 
Fruit  growers  do  not  want  to  see  rain  until  all  their  grapes  are 
dried,  as  moisture  spoils  them. 

Return  to  Riverside  to-morrow. 


4O  A  Memoir. 

RIVERSIDE,  Sept.  10,  1883. 

As  you  see,  I  am  back  home  again — came  Wednesday,  as 
expected.  I  did  not  preach  yesterday,  though  I  fully  intend 
ed  to  do  so  when  I  came  home.  But  my  shortness  of  breath 
under  any  continued  exertion  is  so  great  that  I  did  not  think 
it  wise  to  venture.  Unfortunately,  I  took  a  little  cold  while 
at  Crafton,  and  added  to  it  quite  a  good  deal  the  next  day 
after  coming  home. 

We  had  a  meeting  of  the  session  yesterday  and  they  granted 
me  a  release  for  September  and  October,  I  to  furnish  suitable 
supply  during  that  time.  Mr.  Condit  may  leave  some  time  in 
October,  and  whenever  he  leaves  I  shall  have  to  assume  the 
work,  for  I  do  not  know  of  any  one  else  to  obtain.  I  greatly 
hope  that  I  may  improve  rapidly  in  a  short  time,  and  as  we 
are  now  approaching  the  winter  season,  which  is  said  to  be 
the  best,  perhaps  I  may  get  along  very  well.  God  grant  that 
I  may,  for  I  know  not  what  to  do  if  such  should  not  be  the 
result. 

RIVERSIDE,  Sept.  14,  1883. 

I  purchased  a  horse  last  Monday  and  since  that  time  I 
have  been  riding  out  a  little  morning  and  afternoon.  I  go 
soon  after  breakfast,  and  usually  get  back  about  1 1  o'clock. 
Then  I  rest  awhile  and  read  something  until  dinner ;  after 
dinner  I  read  again  for  a  time  or  write  until  about  4  o'clock, 
when  I  go  out  and  stay  until  six.  I  hope  for  great  benefit 
from  horseback  riding. 

Next  week  Tuesday  the  Los  Angeles  Presbytery,  in  which 


A  Memoir.  41 

we  are,  meets  at  Los  Angeles.  I  suppose  I  shall  be  there 
and  shall  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  a  place  about  which 
I  have  heard  so  much. 

Did  you  know  that  we  have  slight  earthquake  shocks  here 
occasionally?  We  have  had  only  one  since  I  have  been  here 
that  I  have  felt,  and  I  was  then  at  Crafton.  There  was  only 
one  shock  there,  but  here  in  R.  they  say  there  were  three.  It 
was  past  before  I  realized  what  it  was ;  it  was  a  sort  of  rumbling 
and  jarring  combined.  I  do  not  know  exactly  how  to 
describe  it :  one  could  feel  a  slight  movement  of  some  kind, 
but  it  was  gone  in  a  moment.  People  here  feel  very  secure 
when  they  read  of  the  cyclones  and  dreadful  storms  in  the 
east ;  they  think  themselves  free  from  anything  of  that  kind, 
and  indeed  I  suppose  they  are. 

RIVERSIDE,  Sept.  22,  1883. 

I  attended  the  meeting  of  the  Presbytery  at  Los  Angeles ; 
was  there  two  days  and  was  present  at  all  the  sessions.  We 
went  by  rail  from  Colton ;  I  do  not  know  the  distance.  Mr. 
C.,  who  was  the  delegate  from  Arlington,  and  myself  had  as 
pleasant  a  ride  as  one  can  have  in  riding  over  a  country  like 
this,  where  there  is  little  or  no  vegetation  and  no  dwelling 
houses  save  in  the  towns. 

I  am  now  a  member  of  Los  Angeles  Presbytery,  and  no 
longer  of  Albany.  I  did  not  see  much  of  the  city,  but  think 
it  a  rather  pleasant  place ;  it  was  not  so  hot  as  it  has  been 
here — yesterday  110°,  and  to-day  the  same.  That  is  not 
a  California  story  but  an  actual  fact !  The  city  is  built  in  a 


42  A  Memoir. 

valley  and  on  high  bluffs,  very  steep,  and  from  the  bluffs  one 
gets  a  fine  view,  but  he  earns  it  in  climbing. 

How  the  time  goes  by  !  I  just  realize  to-day  that  there  is 
only  one  week  more  of  this  month.  Soon  October  will  be 
over,  and  then  I  must  go  to  work.  I  am  bound  to  be  much 
stronger  by  that  time  or  I  fear  I  shall  make  a  poor  showing. 
I  am  not  fit  to  preach ;  I  ought  to  be  preaching  now,  and  I 
do  not  know  how  soon  I  shall  be  able  to  preach  again. 

NORDHOFF,  CAL.,  Oct.  5,  1883. 

This  place  is  distant  thirty-seven  miles  from  Santa  Barbara 
and  fifteen  miles  from  San  Buena  Ventura  on  the  coast,  in 
what  is  called  the  Ojai  valley,  almost  completely  shut  in  by 
mountains. 

I  went  by  stage  from  R.  to  Colton,  a  week  ago  last  Monday 
afternoon,  in  order  to  take  the  early  train  to  Los  Angeles  the 
next  morning.  I  went  on  the  next  morning  and  stayed  in 
Los  Angeles  until  afternoon  when  the  train  ran  to  San  Pedro, 
where  I  was  to  take  the  steamer  to  Santa  Barbara.  Ar 
rived  in  Santa  Barbara  Wednesday  afternoon,  and  was  told 
that  there  was  no  daily  stage  to  the  Ojai,  as  I  had  previously 
been  informed.  There  was  only  a  stage  on  Tuesday  of  each 
week.  Santa  Barbara  was  no  place  for  me,  I  knew,  because 
of  the  dampness,  and  I  was  bound  to  go  away  from  there  as 
soon  as  I  could.  I  inquired  about  the  different  ways  of 
reaching  here,  and  the  earliest  that  I  learned  was  to  take  a 
steamer  Friday  night  back  to  San  Buena  Ventura.  I  con 
cluded  I  would  go  Thursday  morning  by  stage  to  San  Marcus 


A  Memoir.  43 

Grade  back  of  Santa  Barbara  up  in  the  mountains  to  a  place 
recommended  me,  and  if  I  found  it  good  I  would  stay  there. 
What  a  climb  we  had.  It  was  quite  exciting  to  me,  and 
would  have  been  much  more  interesting  were  it  not  for  that 
fact.  We  went  up  a  steep  grade,  for  I  know  not  how  many 
miles,  up,  up,  up,  with  very  sharp  turns  every  now  and  then, 
a  high  bank  of  rock,  perhaps,  on  one  side  and  a  precipice  on 
the  other.  Large  rocks  were  coming  to  the  surface  and 
formed  the  bed  of  the  road  in  many  places.  In  one  place 
the  road  was  cut  through  the  solid  rock,  and  was  so  steep 
that  furrows  had  been  cut  in  the  rock  so  that  the  horses 
might  cling  to  it.  I  was  a  little  alarmed  when  we  were  going 
over  that,  and  was  very  thankful  when  it  was  passed.  But 
the  view  was  magnificent !  You  could  look  down  on  the 
lower  ridges  and  ravines  as  they  wound  in  and  out  among 
each  other,  see  the  valleys  far  away  and  the  rocks  and  trees 
all  around  you.  They  were  not  very  large  trees,  chiefly  live- 
oak —  a  very  hardy  sort  of  scrubby  wood  which  grew  so 
thickly  as  to  cover  everything  up  —  and  you  saw  green  leaves 
all  around.  Before  we  were  near  the  top  I  could  feel  that 
the  air  was  rarer,  though  I  could  breathe  without  any  great 
difficulty.  We  reached  the  summit  and  began  to  descend 
before  we  came  to  a  single  habitation,  and  the  first  we  came 
to  was  my  destination.  The  place  recommended  to  me  was 
reached.  Not  very  inviting  I  said  to  myself  for  a  stay  of  any 
length.  A  house  one-story,  boarded  up  and  down  with  rough 
boards  covered  with  whitewash  (an  item  in  its  favor),  a 
barren  door-yard  with  a  sluggish  stream  in  front  from  which 


44  A  Memoir. 

bad  odors  proceeded.  The  lady  was  kind  but  could  not 
accommodate  me,  and  especially  that  day,  for  a  friend  was 
coming  to  Visit  her  and  would  arrive  in  a  short  time  with  the 
stage  from  the  opposite  direction.  Didn't  I  feel  discouraged  ! 
here  I  had  taken  that  long  ride,  longer  than  I  had  taken 
before  since  coming  from  Crafton,  and  I  was  a  little  appre 
hensive  about  the  effect  of  the  ride  back  the  same  day 
without  resting,  but  I  stood  it  better  than  I  anticipated,  and 
after  the  night's  rest  felt  quite  refreshed.  We  went  down  the 
mountain  pretty  rapidly,  and  did  not  have  so  much  chance  to 
admire  the  scenery  as  when  we  went  up.  There  were  four 
horses,  and  about  all  they  did  was  to  guide  the  stage  and 
keep  out  of  its  way.  The  driver  puts  his  foot  on  the  brake  — 
a  large  heavy  one  that  would  keep  the  wheels  from  turning 
sometimes  —  and  away  we  went.  There  was  one  place, 
however,  over  that  bare  rock  where  he  made  the  horses  walk 
very  slowly,  but  in  other  places  it  was  quite  different.  Next 
morning  I  took  the  stage  from  Santa  Barbara  for  Ventura  — 
a  stage  which,  I  learned,  ran  every  day,  though  the  hotel 
proprietors  did  not  tell  me  of  it.  I  had  good  fare  —  excel 
lent —  at  the  "  Arlington,"  but  I  cannot  quite  forgive  them 
for  keeping  me  in  ignorance  of  that  stage. 

I  think  I  am  some  better  here,  and  yet  I  do  not  know. 
Yesterday  was  cloudy  and  quite  cold.  I  was  cold  about 
noon,  and  sat  for  some  time  after  dinner  in  front  of  the  parlor 
fire  trying  to  get  warm.  To-day  is  clear  and  warm,  and  I 
feel  better,  but  there  is  a  good  deal  of  difficulty  in  breathing, 
more  than  I  have  felt  before.  I  do  not  know  what  it 


A  Memoir.  45 

means  —  whether  it  is  something  temporary  or  in  the  natural 
course  of  the  disease.  I  cough  a  good  deal  at  night,  but  less, 
I  think,  than  when  I  came.  I  suppose  there  is  some  wise 
purpose  in  it  all,  but  sometimes  I  feel  a  little  discouraged. 

NORDHOFF,  Oct.   12,   1883. 

Yes,  my  alloted  time  of  rest  is  rapidly  passing,  and  yet  I  do 
not  think  the  people  will  ask  me  to  do  what  they  think  I 
cannot  without  injury  to  myself.  I  do  not  know  what  will  be 
the  outcome,  but  I  fear  I  shall  not  be  strong  enough  to  do 
good  work  Nov.  ist.  I  am  thinking  of  going  back  to  R.  next 
Wednesday,  whatever  I  do  afterwards. 

RIVERSIDE,  Oct.  19,  1883. 

You  will  see  by  this  that  I  am  back  in  rny  old  quarters, 
reaching  here  yesterday,  as  I  expected,  and  was  glad  to  be  at 
my  journey's  end ;  was  some  tired,  but  not  seriously.  It 
seems  natural  and  good  to  be  back  again,  but  whether  it  will 
be  as  beneficial  remains  to  be  seen. 

I  had  written  thus  far,  when  it  occurred  to  me  it  was  time 
to  see  whether  my  pony  had  forgotten  how  to  carry  me  or 
not.  He  has  grown  a  little  frisky  in  my  absence,  but  he  went 
all  right ;  there  was  nothing  to  be  noted  about  him,  except  that 
he  seemed  to  have  lost  familiarity  with  objects  along  the  road, 
and  had  the  whole  thing  to  learn  over  again.  I  had  a  dread 
ful  stage  ride  in  getting  to  the  depot,  at  Newhall,  on  Wednes 
day.  The  roads  were  very  dusty,  as  only  California  roads  can 
be,  and  the  stage  was  drawn  by  four  horses.  Perhaps  you 


46  A  Memoir. 

can  imagine  what  a  dust  they  would  kick  up,  and  then  the 
stage  must  pass  through  that  raised  dust  and  the  passengers 
must  breathe  it.  Sometimes  there  would  be  a  breeze  across 
our  path  or  in  our  faces,  and  oh,  how  refreshing  —  for  it 
carried  the  dust  away,  and  we  could  get  a  little  pure  air. 
Besides  this,  there  was  the  roughness  of  the  roads.  In  this 
country  there  are  a  great  many  very  heavy  loads  drawn  of  grain, 
wood,  or  something  else,  and  they  cut  up  the  roads  badly. 
They  use  four,  six,  and  sometimes  even  more  horses.  Then 
there  are  holes  in  the  road,  round  or  oblong,  just  large  enough 
to  let  the  wheel  down ;  they  are  called  chuck  holes,  and 
correctly,  for  the  way  the  stage  chucks  into  them  makes  me 
wish  the  journey  over.  The  distance  was  thirty-seven  miles, 
and  I  was  glad,  indeed,  to  stop.  I  had  ridden  already  that 
day  before  taking  the  stage  thirteen  miles  in  a  private  convey 
ance,  and  it  made  a  pretty  hard  day  of  it.  I  went  from 
Nordhoff  to  Santa  Paula,  and  then  took  the  stage  to  Newhall. 
In  the  morning  I  took  the  train  to  Colton  and  the  stage  to 
R.,  reaching  here  about  noon. 


Thus-  the  story  of  his  experiences  in  California  ends.  In  a 
few  weeks  after  the  date  of  this  last  letter  he  reached  home. 
Of  the  details  of  the  homeward  journey  we  are  ignorant. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


A  LETTER  FROM  REV.  DR.   GEORGE  ALEXANDER. 

<pjR.  ALEXANDER  knew  Mr.  Davis  as  a  co-laborer  in  the 
Union  College  Faculty,  and  the  following  letter  attests 
that  he  warmly  appreciated  his  virtues  : 

UNIVERSITY    PLACE    CHURCH,  1 
NEW  YORK,  Feb.  22,  1884.    j 

My  Dear  Prof.  Price : — You  ask  me  to  contribute  some 
thing  to  your  contemplated  Memoir  of  our  friend  J.  R.  Davis. 
I  am  glad  to  know  that  there  is  to  be  some  recognition  of  his 
worth  besides  the  silent  memorial  of  mound  and  stone,  but  I 
regret  that  I  have  so  little  to  say  concerning  one  who  deserves 
so  much.  I  had  not  the  advantage  of  knowing  him  as  a 
student,  and  during  our  brief  association  in  the  College 
Faculty  I  was  so  cumbered  with  many  things  that  I  had  but 
little  time  to  penetrate  the  mantle  of  his  reserve  and  find  the 
man.  Now  that  he  has  passed  from  us  to  goodlier  fellowship, 
I  realize  that  it  is  a  mistake  not  to  find  time  for  the  cultivation 
of  such  a  friendship.  I  do  not  find  it  easy  to  describe  the 
prominent  features  of  his  character.  He  was  devoid  of  those 
eccentricities  which  often  secure  attention  and  reputation  for 
inferior  merit.  There  was  nothing  exaggerated  or  one-sided 

about  him.     Both  in  mind  and  character  he  was  symetrical, 

(47) 


48  A  Memoir. 

well-poised,  and  this  gave  a  quiet  dignity  to  his  speech  and 
bearing.  I  admired  his  scholarship,  unalloyed  as  it  was  by 
any  conceit  of  attainment ;  I  coveted  his  power  of  brief,  terse 
statement ;  but  most  of  all  I  was  impressed  by  his  clear  con 
victions,  deep  rooted  principles,  transparent  honesty.  I  never 
suspected  him  of  an  ulterior  motive  or  a  suppressed  purpose. 
In  his  chosen  profession,  where  intellectual  brilliancy  counts 
for  so  little,  where  moral  and  spiritual  soundness  count  for  so 
much,  I  had  anticipated  for  him  a  career  of  great  usefulness 
and  success.  The  disappointment  of  this  hope  confirms  the 
larger  hope  of  a  life  to  come,  in  which  the  broken  promise  of 
the  present  may  find  fulfilment. 

Sincerely  yours, 

GEORCE  ALEXANDER. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


A  LETTER  FROM  REV.  DR.  HASTINGS. 

/THE  Rev.  Dr.  Hastings,  of  Union  Theological  Seminary, 
™  furnished,  through  the  Rev.  Dr.  Darling,  the  following 
very  just  tribute  to  Mr.  Davis's  character  and  scholarship. 
He  says  : 

"There  is  but  one  feeling  in  the  Faculty  with  regard 
to  Mr. -Davis's  character  and  scholarship  —  he  was  respect 
ed  and  beloved  by  all  his  teachers.  During  his  senior 
year  I  saw  him  personally  (for  private  criticism")  a  good  deal, 
as  I  do  all  of  the  seniors.  I  was  deeply  impressed  with  the 
solidity  and  strength  of  his  nature ;  with  the  simplicity,  sin 
cerity  and  consecration  of  his  Christian  character.  There 
was  a  poise,  a  steadiness,  in  his  quiet  energy  which  com 
manded  respect  from  all.  His  scholarship  was  remarkable, 
but  with  it  there  were  none  of  the  usual  signs  of  vanity  or  of 
self-consciousness.  Noticing  his  failing  health,  I  persuaded 
him  to  let  me  arrange  for  him  an  interview  with  the  specialist, 
Dr.  Loomis  ;  and  on  Dr.  Loomis'  advice  I  secured  Mr.  Davis 
an  appointment  to  go  to  Southern  California.  Mr.  Davis  .ad 
vised  with  me  frequently  about  this  matter,  and  I  was  struck 
by  the  calmness  with  which  he  contemplated  the  critical  con- 

(49) 


50  A  Memoir. 

dition  of  his  health ;  it  was  very  unusual.  The  climate  of 
Southern  California  did  not  help  him,  and  he  longed  for 
home.  I  shall  not  soon  forget  his  letters  on  this  subject — so 
pathetic  and  so  Christian  were  they  in  their  deep  resignation. 
I  think  it  should  be  said  that  Mr.  Davis,  without  in  the 
least  seeking  it,  won  not  only  the  thorough  respect,  but  the 
affection  of  his  classmates  to  an  unusual  degree.  We  can  see 
now  how  his  character  was  ripening  for  Heaven,  though  we 
thought  it  was  for  distinguished  usefulness  on  earth. 

Yours  very  truly,  T.  S.  HASTINGS. 


CHAPTER  X. 

RESOLUTIONS  PASSED   BY    THE   FACULTY  OF  UNION 
COLLEGE. 


/OLTHOUGH  Mr.  Davis  died  on  the  isth  of  January,  it 
was  not  till  late  in  February  that  the  sad  news  reached 
his  friends  at  Union  ;  and  at  the  first  meeting  of  the  College 
Faculty,  held  after  the  reception  of  the  news,  the  following 
resolution  was  unanimously  adopted  : 

Resolved,  That  we  learn  with  great  regret  of  the  recent 
death  of  our  friend  aud  former  colleague,  the  Rev.  Joseph  R. 
Davis. 

As  a  student,  we  always  found  him  industrious  and  success 
ful,  true  to  all  his  duties,  honorable  towards  all  men,  and 
loyal  to  his  Christian  professions.  As  a  teacher,  these  noble 
traits  grew  in  intensity  and  earnestness,  and  became  the 
brightest  ornaments  of  a  manly  character.  His  humility  of 
bearing  and  unassuming  nature  were  alike  attractive  to  his 
pupils  and  fellow  teachers.  We  loved  him  for  his  generous 
worth  ;  we  prized  him  for  his  talents,  and  saw  in  him  possi 
bilities  of  a  future  alike  useful  to  humanity  and  his  church. 
While  we  deeply  mourn  his  loss,  we  tenderly  sympathize  with 
those  to  whom  he  was  bound  by  the  strong  ties  of  family 
affection  and  love. 

(so 


CHAPTER  XL 

A  LETTER   FROM  THE  REV.  MR.  MORRIS. 

was  the  custom  of  Mr.  Davis  to  spend  a  part  of  each 
long  vacation,  during  his  college  course,  at  Neath,  Pa., 
where  his  father  resided.  He  was  not  averse  to  laboring  on 
the  farm  during  those  periods ;  and  he  often  talked  to  me  of 
the  great  pleasure  he  felt  at  being  in  the  hay  field — renewing 
the  experiences  of  his  happy  youth. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Morris,  pastor  of  the  church  at  Neath,  con 
tributed  the  following  very  interesting  account  of  Mr.  Davis 's 
connection  with  his  church  and  his  work ;  and,  in  addition, 
he  gives  many  interesting  details  of  his  young  friend's  life  : 

NEATH,  PA.,  May  2,  1884. 
Prof.  I.  B.  Price,  Union  College,  N.  Y. 

DEAR  SIR. — I  am  very  glad  that  you  have  undertaken  to 
prepare  a  memoir  of  the  Rev.  J.  R.  Davis ;  for  a  memoir  of 
him  is  certainly  very  much  to  be  desired,  and  it  is  especially 
fitting  that  it  should  come  from  Union  College.  When  I 
became  pastor  of  the  church  at  Neath,  in  1871,  Mr.  Davis 
had  been  a  member  of  the  church  for  a  number  of  years ; 
and,  though  quite  young,  he  was  already  a  marked  man,  and 
the  church,  together  with  the  venerable  pastor,  the  Rev.  S.  A. 


A  Memoir.  53 

Williams,  had  signified  to  him  their  strong  conviction  that  he 
ought  to  devote  himself  to  the  Christian  ministry.  It  was  a 
long  time  after  that  before  he  saw  his  way  clear  to  enter 
the  ministry  as  a  profession;  but  he  had  entered  upon  the 
work  of  the  ministry  almost  from  the  beginning  of  his  Chris 
tian  life.  At  least,  throughout  the  period  of  my  acquaint 
ance  with  him  he  was  not  only  a  devout  and  earnest  believer, 
but  also  a  zealous  Evangelist  and  a  thoughtful  and  devoted 
shepherd  of  the  flock  of  Christ.  He  did  nothing  through 
strife  or  vain  glory ;  he  believed  firmly  and  fervently,  and 
therefore  did  he  speak.  He  labored  for  souls  because  the 
love  of  Christ  constrained  him.  He  was  always  interested 
and  helpful  in  the  public  services  of  the  church ;  and,  in  the 
wider  field  of  secular  life,  he  attached  himself  in  true  human 
fellowship  to  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men.  He  let  his 
light  shine  wherever  he  went;  but  he  never  forgot  for  a 
moment  that  he  was  not  the  light,  but  was  sent  to  bear  wit 
ness  of  the  light.  When  he  left  home  for  college,  I  had  the 
most  absolute  confidence  that  he  would  come  out  a  still 
stronger  and  better  man ;  but  I  wondered  what  temporary 
effect  the  distraction  of  many  studies,  and  of  new  scenes  and 
mixed  society,  might  have  on  his  religious  spirit  and  habits. 
As  he  came  among  us  from  time  to  time  during  his  vacations, 
I  soon  found  that  there  was  not  to  be  even  a  momentary 
wavering.  His  attendance  at  all  church  services  was  as 
steady  as  ever,  and  his  prayers  and  exhortations  were  more 
and  more  earnest  and  thoughtful.  He  visited  the  sick  and 
the  aged  throughout  the  neighborhood.  He  watched  the 


54  A  Memoir. 

progress  and  declensions  of  his  young  friends  so  closely  that, 
though  he  was  away  from  home  so  much,  I,  who  was  on  the 
ground  all  the  time,  had  my  attention  first  called  to  important 
matters  by  him  quite  frequently.  I  never  knew  any  one  more 
thoroughly  possessed  by  the  true  pastoral  spirit  than  he  was ; 
and  I  never  knew  any  one  who  more  ardently  desired,  or 
more  faithfully  prepared  himself,  to  do  a  great  work  for  Christ 
in  the  world.  "  Thou  didst  well  in  that  it  was  in  thine  heart." 
The  will  was  accepted  for  the  work  on  earth,  and  he  is  trans 
ferred  to  the  higher  ministry  of  Heaven. 

I  am,  dear  sir,  yours  very  truly,  E.  I.  MORRIS. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

THE  END. 

T  was  on  the  1 5th  of  May,  1883,  that  he  preached  his  trial 
sermon  before  the  Albany  Presbytery,  which  was  in 
session  at  Schenectady.  At  the  same  meeting  he  was 
examined  by  a  committee  of  the  Presbytery.  Everything 
being  satisfactory  he  stood  fully  equipped  for  doing  Christ's 
work,  and  talked  anxiously  of  the  time  when  he  should  be 
at  his  post  at  Riverside,  Southern  California.  This  place 
had  been  selected  and  secured  for  him  by  Dr.  Hastings 
of  the  Seminary.  Only  a  little  while  had  elapsed  between  the 
Seminary  examinations  and  those  imposed  by  the  Presbytery. 
At  the  conclusion  of  the  latter,  though  it  was  a  better  measure 
of  what  the  examiners  had  forgotten  than  of  what  the  candidate 
knew,  he  was  much  exhausted ;  and  to  those  who  knew  him 
well  he  appeared  too  much  broken  down  to  undertake  anything 
but  the  rebuilding  of  his  shattered  health.  As  he  entered 
upon  the  long  journey  to  California,  which  was  to  be  broken 
by  only  a  few  short  stops  for  rest,  it  appeared  plain  to  many 
that,  instead  of  hastening  on  to  begin  life's  work,  he  was 
nearing  the  great  shadow  which  all  too  soon  would  fall  full 
across  his  path,  and  darken  into  the  night  when  no  man 

(55) 


56  A  Memoir. 

can  work.     You  have  read  the  Memoir  and  know  how  it  all 
ended.  He  died  at.  his  home,  in  Neath,  on  the  15*  of  January, 

1884. 

Bacon  regarded  as  the  gift  of  death,  that  "  it  openeth  the 
gate  to  good  fame  and  extinguished  envy  "  ;  but  our  departed 
friend  sought  no  fame  which  could  be  the  gift  of  either 
life  or  death,  and  envy  had  no  sting  for  him  as  he  trod  the 
narrow  way  and  passed  within  the  veil. 


P7 


I 


, 


''/  ''•  \          - 


